


All the Magic I've Ever Known I've Had to Make Myself

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, mermaid au, mermaid!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Castiel hadn’t wanted to be a fisherman, not really. He wanted to be a fisherman in the same way that the queen’s daughter wanted to be a princess:  It wasn’t where his interests fell, but it was what he was born into, so he would gladly carry on the tradition."</p>
<p>In which the angels are fishermen and Sam is a mermaid concerned about marine ecology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Magic I've Ever Known I've Had to Make Myself

**Author's Note:**

> This stupid mermaid AU thing that I wanted to be a huge fic with a developed universe . . . but this happened instead. My followers and friends are lucky I love them.
> 
> Title, once again, from Shel Silverstein.

            Castiel hadn’t wanted to be a fisherman, not really. He wanted to be a fisherman in the same way that the queen’s daughter wanted to be a princess: It wasn’t where his interests fell, but it was what he was born into, so he would gladly carry on the tradition.

            It was his first time out on his own, and it would have been exhilarating if it wasn’t because Gabriel had somehow managed to get himself banned from the gulf for the remainder of the season. They had no idea how, and Michael hadn’t wanted to know. He just handed Cas the keys to the boatshed and told him to make sure Gabriel went nowhere near it.

            “Balthazar too,” Michael had added with a leery side glance towards the culprits in question.

            Regardless of how it came about, this was Castiel’s chance to prove himself to his family. Not that fishing was difficult; it was just a matter of coordination and stealth, neither of which were any trouble for him. But today they weren’t biting for some reason. In half the day, he had barely managed to scrape half the haul he was expected to. Castiel blamed it on his late start and resolved to leave earlier next time. There were just over two months left in the season. That was nine chances to revaluate his technique for maximum profit. He refused to fail this time.

            When the sun began to rise, he sighed forlornly at his meagre pile of fish and reached for the oars.

            A flash of made Castiel freeze. There was something large swimming beside the boat, something possessing a green-blue-brown tail with scales that reflected the setting sun. It looked almost as long as Castiel was tall, but before he could even begin to reach for the net, it was gone from sight entirely.

~~~~~

"So how'd it go?"

            Castiel pinched his lips together and tersely took the man's money in exchange for a handful of fish.

            "I can't talk now, Dean. I'm working."

            Dean scoffed. "Yeah, I can tell you're really busy," he said, gesturing to the nearly empty marketplace. It was Monday afternoon, when most wage-earning individuals were working. Most villagers did their shopping on Saturday morning, as Friday was the normative pay day.

            "Busy or not, I'm still on the clock, so to speak."

            "So take a break. It's almost time for your shift to end anyway."

            Castiel gave Dean a stern look that yielded no room for argument. "Then go wait for me, since I'm almost done anyway."

            Dean sneered and grumbled as he left, but Cas took no offence. That's just how Dean was. He knew Dean would be waiting for him at the old abandoned shed in the woods, just like always.

            Sure enough, when Cas left at four o'clock, he found his friend leaning against the rotted wood, attempting to balance a pinecone on his nose.

            "One of these days," Castiel warned, "that wood is going to break when you lean on it. What then?"

            Dean levelled a warning glare at Cas, who promptly nodded to acknowledge his mistake. Dean didn't like it when people hypothesised like that, with good reason.

            "So how did it go?" Dean asked again flippantly.

            "Not as well as I expected," Cas admitted, taking a seat beside his friend and picking at the grass lining the shed. Every year there was more, and soon flowers and vines would begin to take the structure back. "The fish were evasive."

            "Oh really?" Dean laughed.

            Cas just hummed non-committally, knowing it would be a grave mistake to encourage the jibe. "Do you know if there's anything large in the gulf?"

            "How large?"

            "About my size."

            At this, Dean outright laughed. "Hell, no, nothing like that. Why?"

            Castiel shrugged. "I just thought I saw something yesterday. I guess my eyes were playing tricks on me."

            "It was probably a school. Shoulda tried to catch it."

            Cas didn't mention that he did, didn't say anything about the creature's speed or how he knew without a doubt that it was _not_ a school and looked unlike any fish he had ever seen before in his life. He just nodded and made a mental note to be on the lookout next time he was out on the water.

            "You should come with me, next time."

            He wasn't even done speaking when Dean started shaking his head, sliding down the wall of the shed to look at Cas face-to-face. "Not a chance."

            "It would be good for you."

            "I'd have to disagree with you there, Cas."

            Castiel shook his head incredulously. Dean manned the lighthouse, but he was terrified of the water. Which was actually why he decided manning the lighthouse was what he wanted to do with his life in the first place.

            "So, were your brothers pissed?" Dean asked casually, although Cas knew better.

            "Not at all. Although, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to say they were disappointed. I think they expected more of me." Cas scoffed softly. " _I_ expected more of me."

            "Hey, there's always tomorrow, right?"

            Cas shook his head. He only fished on Mondays. There were more than enough Novaks to cover the rest of the week.

            Castiel had a lot of siblings, most of whom were adopted, but siblings nonetheless. He didn't have a father, or a mother, as far as he remembered, so as one of the youngest, he was always striving for his brothers' approval. He never really had to earn his sisters'. They just automatically accepted him, probably because they knew what it was like to be looked down upon.

            Dean didn't understand. He had a brother, once. Their father often had to tell him not to lean over the side of the boat, lest he fall in and drown.

            Dean didn't have a brother anymore. Nor a father, for that matter, but that was no fault of the sea. John Winchester went mad, claiming that it was a water demon that killed his wife and youngest son, and he died trying to exact revenge. Due largely to the fact that demons didn't exist, but Castiel never said as much. Dean remembered every member of his family, and he mourned them equally, chose a profession that would help ensure no one else had to endure what he had. Castiel would always respect that.

            They sat in companionable silence until it began to grow dark, when Castiel had to return to his house by the coast. They walked together, only parting ways when they could walk no farther. As Castiel dragged his feet the rest of the way home, he looked out towards the water and would have sworn he saw a flash of the same shimmering tail from earlier.

            He didn’t mention it to his family. But then, he rarely spoke to them anyway. By the time he got back, Inias was setting the table for supper. They sat at their respective seats, said grace, ate in silence, then retired to bed, just like every night. For the first time, Castiel wished he had a hammock close to a window.

~~~~~

Castiel woke up the next Monday long before the sun rose and was out on the water just as the sky began to lighten. He was determined. If he caught more than his quota of fish today, the rest of his family wouldn't have to catch as much the following days, saving them time and money. It was a solid plan in theory. The problem was actually executing it. The fish were just as evasive as they were last week, despite Castiel's early start. Every now and then, he thought he heard a splash on the surface of the water and turned to face it every time, fully expecting to see the large fish again, but there was nothing there. He barely made the quota again.

            Throughout the course of the week, Castiel did research on the gulf and what marine life had been observed there, in recent years as well as the distant past and what was predicted for the future. There was, had never been, nor would ever be anything as large as he had witnessed. Not even within the continent. So either Castiel was going insane, or something catastrophically strange was happening with the waters of the world. Cas was banking on the first option.

            The next time he was on the water, he brought several different kinds of bait. His family had a deal with one of the local farmers that they would trade so many fish for so much bait, but it obviously wasn't working well, so Cas wanted to try something else. He laced one net with some beetles he had found in the forest and another with a few fish that were too small to sell, and was pleased to see that the small fish worked wonderfully. The sun was barely risen by the time he met his quota for the day, and he still had a few hours before he had to be at the market. He smiled to himself, thinking that this was his ticket to recognition, so long as his family didn't find out he was violating their deal.

            Just as he was getting ready to reel in the net for the last time, Cas heard an urgent whisper from somewhere behind him, something that sounded vaguely like _No no no no no_ , accompanied by a rhythmic swish of water. Cas turned slowly, wondering if one of his siblings had swam out to meet him but was met with a face he didn't recognise.

            The boy looked to be about the same age as Castiel, give or take a couple of years. His skin was tan and brown hair sun-kissed, his body muscular but skinny, and face beautiful, although rather than legs below his waist, there was a large tail with green-blue-brown scales that reflected the rising sun. His ears were obscured by fins, and he held a single fish gently in his webbed hands. Oddly, what Cas found strangest about the boy was that he seemed to be soothing the fish with deep gurgles that didn't sound like any kind of language.

            When he realised Castiel was staring at him, he froze, eyes wide with fear. He looked like his instincts were screaming at him to flee, but he was paralysed. Castiel held his hands up to show he meant no harm and kept held the boy's gaze rather than let his eyes wander to the rest of his body like they wanted to.

            Finally, with a sigh, he let the fish in his grasp swim away and seemed to slump in defeat.

            "I don't suppose," he started softly, "that now is a good time to preach to you about ecology?"

~~~~~

"What's your name?" Castiel asked when he had convinced the boy that he wasn't an immediate threat.

            "I don't think I should tell you that," he admitted sheepishly.

            "Why not?"

            "Well, for one, I'm still hoping I can convince you that this was all a dream."

            "Not likely," Cas said, but the boy laughed, so he figured it must have been a joke.

            "Honestly? I don't want anyone to know who I am, and if I tell you my name, you'd be able to put the pieces together."

            "Well, how did you get here?"

            "I can't tell you that either."

            Castiel huffed and sat back, slightly pleased when the boy swam forward to make up for the distance.

            "Look," he continued seriously. "I must be batshit to even be talking to you. I mean, you're not only human, but a fisherman. And I'm . . . " his voice trailed off, his tail twitching underneath the water. "Whatever the hell I am."

            "You don't know?"

            The boy shook his head sadly. "You're the first human I've talked to since . . . well, since _this_ happened. And fish aren't exactly booksmart, if you know what I mean."

            "You mean you weren't born like this?" Cas asked, excited in spite of himself.

            The boy -- and he had to have a name because Castiel couldn't just keep calling him _the boy_ in his head -- huffed in exasperation. "Look, this isn't about me, alright? This is about the fish. You're killing them."

            "Yes," Castiel agreed, far from ashamed of his profession. "My family has been fishing here for years."

            "I understand that, but you're killing them too quickly!" Castiel couldn't tell if it was sadness or anger that made the boy's eyes shine. "You come out here _every day_. And there were already fewer fish to begin with because the winter came so soon and lasted so long. And the gulf has been closing off for ages. It'll be a sea in a decade, maybe less at this rate, so there's less movement from here to the ocean. If you don't cut back, the gulf will be completely empty before it's even become a sea."

            Cas narrowed his eyes, unsure if he was amused or infuriated. "You've been scaring away the fish so we can't catch them," he accused.

            "Not _scaring_ them, just, you know, leading them away from the nets. Not that it's made much of a difference," he added with a forlorn glance at the pile of fish in Castiel's boat. Cas looked there too and grabbed a trout at the top of the pile, placing it back in the water. The boy helped the fish get accustomed to its surroundings and swim away before levelling an unamused glare in Cas's direction. "Don't patronise me."

            "Well, I don't know how -- " Cas started, but he was cut off by the sound of a bell on the shore: His signal that it was time to come back. He turned to apologise to the boy, but he was already gone, presumably frightened by the commotion.

            Castiel sighed and rowed back to shore. He declined Dean's offer to hang out after his shift and instead went out to the coast, hoping to pick up his conversation, but he saw neither fin nor tail of the boy.

~~~~~

On Monday, Castiel rowed out on the water, fully expecting to encounter his fishy companion – _No_ , he thought, _That’s not a good thing to call him either. ‘The boy’ was better_ – but he didn’t get so much as a glimpse of his shimmering tail.

            “I know it wasn’t a dream,” he called out to the open water. “Just because I don’t know who or what you are doesn’t mean I’m dull enough to assume you aren’t real.”

            He was met with silence save for the soft splashes of water against his boat and sighed forlornly as he hauled in the net for the last time that morning.

            “A guy can hope, right?”

            Castiel startled violently and had to steady himself on the side of the boat lest he lost his balance and fell out. He levelled a glare over his shoulder, where the boy was half-hiding under the surface, evidently trying to hide a smirk.

            Castiel wanted nothing more than to rant about scaring him like that, but judging by the sun, he was about to be called back soon. So he settled for a huff and rushed his explanation. “I have to go soon, but I’ll be at _that_ pier this afternoon. I expect to see you there.”

            “I don’t like to be out when the sun is up,” the boy said as Castiel took an oar in each hand.

            “I understand that,” even though he didn’t, not quite, “but I want to talk to you about the fish, and that’s the only time I’m able to.”

            He didn’t wait for a reply as he made his way back to the shore, just as the bell began to ring.

~~~~~

Castiel worried himself all day that he was rude to the boy, that he wouldn’t show up when Cas waited for him, that he might never see him again. It was strange, even to Castiel, that the fact the boy seemed to be half-fish was the least important factor of their companionship, if it could really be called that. It wasn’t even relevant. Anyone else would be freaking out. Hell, _Cas_ should have been freaking out, but he just wasn’t.

            He supposed he had always been fairly open-minded.

            He rushed to the docks after his shift at the market, half worried that the boy wouldn’t be there, but the concern disappearing almost immediately. He could see the tail in the water a hundred yards away. Cas wondered how he survived unnoticed so long with such noticeable scales.

            _I don’t like to be out when the sun is up_.

            Oh.

            “I didn’t think you’d show up,” Cas admitted, sitting on the edge of the dock, as close to the boy as he could be without being in the water.

            “Yeah, well, you already know I exist,” he said, only half seriously, “So there’s not much point in hiding anymore, is there? And anyway, you said you wanted to know more about the fish.”

            “Before you start,” Castiel interrupted, “There has to be something I can call you. A name of some sort.”

            “Why?” the boy asked warily, shrinking back as if ready to flee. “You’re not talking about me?”

            “No, no!” Castiel was quick to assure. “I swear. No one would believe me anyway. It’s just . . . names are important, you know? I don’t want to distance you by not calling you by name.”

            The boy looked contemplative for a moment, searching Castiel’s face for something. Evidently, he found it because he replied, “Sam.”

            The name struck some memory of Castiel’s, although he couldn’t quite place it. He had a feeling it was just in passing, mentioned offhand, so he pushed it aside for the time being.

            “Castiel,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand for Sam to shake.

            “That’s an interesting name,” Sam commented. “I like it.”

            He didn’t know why, but that made Castiel smile. Maybe it was because no one ever complimented his name. Mostly, they just asked if they could call him Cas, then proceeded to do so either way. But he liked the way his name sounded coming from Sam, so he didn’t correct him.

            “So,” Castiel continued casually, “About the fish.”

            Sam positively beamed and told Cas all about the different species in the gulf. Of course, his resources were severely limited, so he didn’t know much besides what he had observed. But several species were currently endangered and one, he mentioned sadly, may very well be extinct.

            “It’s good you let that trout go the other day,” he commented. “She was the last female of her kind in the gulf. Hopefully she can help repopulate it.”

            Castiel mentioned how the population of their small village was growing, expanding out into farmlands and forest, and how they were stocking up on food now that winter was approaching.

            “There are only a few weeks left in the season,” he explained. “After that, we don’t fish again until late spring.”

            Sam cocked his head to one side in curiosity. “I noticed that, actually. Why do you do that? I’m seriously not complaining, but it’s not like fish are seasonal.”

            Castiel rolled his eyes, much to Sam’s amusement. “It’s some superstition that new settlers are bringing in that fresh food can’t be eaten in the winter.”

            “Why is that?”

            “It’s cursed by the devil to remain alive during the dead months. Or something to that effect. Anyway, my brothers are easily swayed and believe this to be true, so we don’t fish.”

            Castiel sighed, exasperated with his family, while Sam tried not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. They sat in comfortable silence until the sun began to go down, and Cas knew he had to leave.

            “May I speak to you again tomorrow?” he asked as he stood. “I would like to discuss this more.”

            Sam nodded. “Same time, same place?”

            “Yes, if that is alright.”

            “It’s not like I have anywhere to be.” Castiel was amazed by how easily Sam smiled, yet how it lit up his face each time. “Sweet dreams, Castiel.”

            “Sweet – “ he began, before he realised that he didn’t know if fish slept, much less if people-fish slept. But it didn’t much matter because Sam had already disappeared under the water.

~~~~~

The next day, they talked about fish, but they talked about other things too. They were each immensely interested in how the other lived life, because even though they literally lived right next door to each other, their lives were so vastly different. And yet, the found, they were similar in some ways.

            Sam didn’t eat fish. He couldn’t, because he lived among them and knew each of them personally. He explained that he almost starved when he was younger because he refused to eat anything with a face and gills.

            Cas didn’t eat fish because he caught them, and he sold them to others. At some point in time, eating what he caught was equated to predation, and he was never fond of food chains or hierarchies, even though he recognised that they were natural and necessary.

            Sam had a natural thirst for knowledge that existed even before he became . . . whatever he was now. Sam admitted that even he didn’t know. So Cas left for a moment and returned with one of his many books – his second copy of his favourite novel, ironically about a young fisherman. Sam held it reverently, and it was difficult to tell, drenched as he was, but he looked like he might cry. He hovered one hand over a page but withdrew it quickly when a drop of water fell from his finger.

            “I haven’t seen a book since I was small,” he said softly.

            “Can you read?”

            Sam nodded slowly. “A little. I was just beginning to learn when . . . “ His voice trailed off, and when Cas looked up at Sam’s face, it was full of sadness. Sam set the book down on the dock gently and swam back a few feet.

            “Sam?”

            “I’m fine.”

            “ _Sam_ ,” Cas insisted, holding his hand out for Sam to take. He did, hesitantly, and let Cas pull him closer again. “What happened to you?”

            “I can’t tell you that,” he sighed.

            “Well, when did it happen, at least?”

            “I . . . it will be ten years ago next month,” he conceded.

            “How old were you?”

            “ . . . Six.”

            Cas took Sam’s hand again in both of his own, holding his gaze unwaveringly. “I’m so sorry, Sam. For whatever happened, whatever you lost, for having to live in solitary all that time, I am so sorry.”

            A tear fell down Sam’s cheek. He touched it curiously and wrenched his hand away. He spared little more than a rushed, “I hafta go,” before literally turning tail and swimming away.

            Cas sat there, dumbstruck, as long as he could, holding onto a hope that maybe Sam would come back. But he didn’t, and Cas had to sprint home as the sun dipped below the horizon.

            He didn’t see Sam the next day either.

            The day after that, Castiel just accepted that _something_ had happened with Sam and he needed time. Cas elected to spend time with Dean instead.

            And it was “about fuckin’ time,” as his friend put it. He hadn’t been avoiding Dean per se, but he had been blowing him off a bit recently, and for that, he apologised.

            Dean blew him off with a shrug and passed him a bottle of ale, presumably stolen but that fact did nothing to lessen the taste, so Castiel drank anyway. It burned going down but simmered pleasantly in his stomach and left him feeling light, so he figured it couldn’t be all bad.

            “What’s the occasion?” he asked even as he took a swig.

            Dean shrugged again with a mumbled, “Nothin’,” and Cas put the pieces together. Late autumn, Dean more closed off than usual and drinking more as well, in front of Cas no less: “The anniversary is coming up, isn’t it?”

            Castiel didn’t know how he managed to forget every year. Early November was when Dean lost his mother and brother, and also his dad in some ways. How long ago was it now? Cas wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to be insensitive about it.

            He asked anyway. “Hey, Dean?” he slurred, to which Dean slurred back something unintelligible. “When did that thing happen? The sad thing. How long ago?”

            Dean hummed, and Cas tried to count the number of empty bottles between them, calculating if his friend was drunk enough to answer the question.

            “Think it was,” he started, scrunching up his face in concentration, “’Bout half my life ago, Cas. I was ten years old.”

            _And Dean is twenty now_ , Castiel’s mind supplied helpfully, despite the fog that was settling in. So that made it ten years ago, literally half of his life.

            Buzzed as he was, Castiel didn’t put the pieces together until morning, when he claimed a stomach ache in order to nurse his hangover. He decided he didn’t like drinking much, but that was fine. It wasn’t as if he did it often anyway, and anything that helped Dean cope couldn’t be all bad. He spent a majority of his time curled up in Gabriel’s hammock so he could stare out the window that faced the water. He saw the familiar flash of Sam’s tail in the sun and began thinking about their conversation earlier, how Castiel thought they were forming something like a friendship until Sam freaked out and fled.

            _Sam_. The name just sounded so familiar. He could _hear_ the tone it was said in when he last heard it.

            _Sam_ , just as offhand as any other name, except it wasn’t. There was a weight behind it that Castiel had noticed but not acknowledged.

            And just like that, he remembered: Dean treading water in the gulf, just to prove that he could. Castiel casting nervous glances around them to make sure they were alone, because he had heard the other villagers muttering horrible things about people who can swim.

            “Where did you learn that?” he had whispered in awe.

            “Sam taught me,” Dean had answered casually as he pulled himself out of the water. “When we were younger, he taught himself and offered to teach me.”

            Castiel sat up so quickly his head spun and he almost fell out of the hammock. Christ, he was such an idiot. How did he not connect the dots before?

            He had no idea how it happened, but there was no doubt in his mind that the Sam that lived in the gulf now was the same Sam that had died in the gulf a decade ago.

            He tumbled from the hammock and scrambled to his feet, sprinting out the door and to the dock where he had met Sam.

            “Sam!” he hissed, unsure if he could even be heard under the water. “Sam!” When he got no reply, not even a splash, Cas jumped back up and hauled out his boat, intending to row around the whole damn gulf if he had to in order to find Sam. He didn’t know why it was so crucial that he do so, but his heart was pounding in his chest, pulse thundering in his ears. He rowed as quickly as he could while keeping an eye out, his back to the sun.

            He weighed anchor and stood up in the centre of the boat, spinning around wildly and calling Sam’s name.

            He got careless, lost his balance as the boat hit a current and swayed dangerously, tossing Castiel into the water. It wouldn’t have been a problem if Cas could find which way was up, but he was already disoriented to begin with. He couldn’t find his bearings, started to gasp for air but ended up with gulps of water instead, and panicked. Castiel had never thought much about how he would die, but this was not one of the ways he imagined, ironically. He was fully prepared to just let go, allow the darkness creeping into his vision take over completely, when he felt something wrapping around his waist.

            The next thing he could recall was coughing up water on the floor of his boat, his lungs positively on fire. When he could force his eyes open, he saw Sam leaning over him in concern, one hand rubbing his back for comfort.

            “Christ, Castiel, are you okay?” Sam’s voice was strained, as if he were struggling not to cry.

            “So if I ever need to talk to you,” Cas joked half deliriously, “all I have to do is drown myself.”

            Sam laughed hysterically in relief. “I’ll never let you drown, Castiel,” he promised, “but please, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

            Cas tried to answer but another coughing fit interrupted him, so he settled for nodding.

            “Dammit,” Sam said, although it sounded dangerously like a sob. “What the hell are you even doing out here?”

            “Had to find you,” he wheezed, struggling to catch his breath again. “I have to tell you . . . Sam, I know who you are.”

            “Yeah, I figured you would work it out eventually. That’s no reason to get yourself killed.”

            Castiel squinted in confusion. That was not the reaction he had expected. He expected fear or anger, or another freak out, but Sam was totally calm as he helped Cas to turn onto his stomach and expel the rest of the water from his lungs.

            “W-ait, wait,” he coughed. “What?”

            Sam sighed but remained silent until Cas stopped hacking. “I gave you too much information last time we talked. There was no way you’d _not_ figure it out.”

            “So why were you so concerned with keeping it a secret?”

            “A better question is why did I trust you enough to tell you anything? I think it’s because you’re the first human I’ve talked to in a decade.”

            Cas struggled to sit up and took in Sam’s flushed skin, his shifty eyes that still held a hint of worry, and called bullshit. “No, you don’t.”

            “Fine,” Sam snapped, “I trust you because I’m an idiot. Because my brother trusts you, so obviously I can too, and because there’s just _something_ about you that – that – “

            “That what?”

            Sam huffed irritably and dragged Cas forward by his collar. Their lips met, and for whatever reason, Castiel was not surprised by it. It seemed like the only logical place their relationship could go. He _was_ surprised by how gentle Sam was with him, although he probably shouldn’t have been.

            When Sam pushed him away, the fear and uncertainty had returned. Sam seemed to live in a constant state of ready-to-run-at-a-moment’s-notice.

            “Was that okay?” he asked sheepishly. “I mean, that wasn’t terribly out of line, was it?”

            It occurred to Castiel briefly that Sam had no experience with this kind of thing whatsoever, but that thought didn’t last long when he noticed the lingering (slightly nauseating) taste of seaweed on his lips, the salty taste of Sam on his skin.

            “It was nice,” Castiel answered slowly. “Can we do it again?”

            That coaxed a small smile out of Sam, as well as a slower, more intimate kiss.

~~~~~

“Dean doesn’t know about you,” Cas slurred sleepily, basking in the fading rays of sunlight.

            They were both spread out on a bank out of eyesight of the village, Cas drying out in the warmth and Sam lying beside him with most of his tail in the water so he wouldn’t dehydrate. Their fingers were intertwined between them, and occasionally they leaned together to trade sweet, lazy kisses, but for the most part they just laid there.

            “No, he doesn’t,” Sam sighed, partially in sadness but mostly in content.

            “Why not?”

            Sam took a deep breath and hauled himself over to hover over Castiel, considering him silently. Cas brought a hand up to run it through Sam’s mop of hair.

            “Your hair’s drying out,” he commented, getting his fingers caught in the tangles and noticing that his hair naturally curled outwards. “I like it.”

            “Hmmm,” Sam hummed softly. “Dean doesn’t know because I haven’t told him.”

            “But why?”

            “Because I know how my brother is. I only knew him for six years, but I’ve been watching him. He’s still mourning.”

            “Yes,” Castiel agreed, freeing his hand from Sam’s hair to cup his face instead. “Which is why you should tell him. Or I could bring you two together somehow.”

            “Maybe someday,” Sam acquiesced, “but not today. Or tomorrow. See, my brother’s the kind of person who would dedicate his life to trying to . . . ‘fix’ me, if he saw me like this. I don’t need fixing, though, and I don’t want him to give up the life he has.”

            “You don’t want to walk on land again?” Castiel asked softly. “Live without having to hide? Learn to read again?”

            Sam’s breath hitched at the last suggestion. Of course he wanted that.

            “I feel like,” he answered slowly, “I feel like I was given a second chance at life. I was supposed to die when I fell off that ship, but something decided I wasn’t done living and made me like this. There had to have been a reason for it.” Sam sighed again and moved back to Cas’s side. “And anyway, I like to think about it as being cured of humanity.”

            “You’re still a human,” Cas argued, “just not in the way most people are.”

            Sam looked like he was about to argue, but Cas cut him off with a kiss.

            “You know this is ridiculous, right?” Castiel muttered against Sam’s lips. “We’ve known each other for less than a week.”

            “Hey, don’t blame me. It’s not like I know how these things work.”

            Castiel laughed at that and realised that Sam was probably the best person he could have possibly fallen for simply because he _didn’t_ know how these things worked. There were no expectations, no judgement. Sam just followed what he felt was right. Castiel thought he might love Sam for that, but they would have to wait and see where this took them, if anywhere.


End file.
